You are the
Silversword
high
on the cliff
of my longing.
I suffer when we are apart.
Aloof in your lunar terrain
your maroon cluster fascinates me.
The biting winds
challenge my desire
shield you from my furry touch.
The Hawaiians call you ‘ahinahina. (very gray)
You are succulent with your silver hair.
I pollinate you and
dream of us
swimming with the tide
in a welcoming sea.
Our progeny,
a panoramic
plethora dotting
the landscape
of Haleakala.
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It occurs to me That I require an ideal To summit these peaks. Something more than a patch. My tenacity shouts above my perception Shooting ...
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